I join Palmira’s, and implore that freedom
He hath already asked: O listen to him,
And let me say, that after heaven and him
I am indebted most to generous Zopir.

Has then oppression such enticing charms

That thou shouldst wish and beg to be the slave
Of Mahomet, to hear the clash of arms,
With him to live in deserts, and in caves,
And wander o’er his ever shifting country?

Where’er the mind with ease and pleasure dwells,

There is our home, and there our native country:
He formed my soul; to Mahomet I owe
The kind instruction of my earlier years;
Taught by the happy partners of his bed,
Who still adoring and adored by him
Send up their prayers to heaven for his dear safety,
I lived in peace and joy! for ne’er did woe
Pollute that seat of bliss till the sad hour
Of my misfortune, when wide-wasting war
Rushed in upon us and enslaved Palmira:
Pity, my lord, a heart oppressed with grief,
That sighs for objects far, far distant from her.

I understand you, madam; you expect

The tyrant’s hand, and hope to share his throne.

I honor him, my lord; my trembling soul

Looks up to Mahomet with holy fear
As to a god; but never did this heart
E’er cherish the vain hope that he would deign